


We Clean Up Our Own Messes

by managerie



Series: RINCH [7]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, Episode: s02e13 Dead Reckoning, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, M/M, Mark Snow pining, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pack Dynamics, Threesome - M/M/M, rinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/managerie/pseuds/managerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Mark Snow accompanied Reese to that roof in "Dead Reckoning"?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> No Beta Reader for this.
> 
> Some may say that because Mark is a prisoner, he can not consent to sex.  
> Therefore I have warned for mild non-con. I do not plan to get too graphic with the violence. The sex is almost always graphic in my fiction.  
>  

 

~ * ~

Reese releases Snow’s hair with an angry snarl. “Finch saved your life. So now, it belongs to him. Got that Mark?”

Snow nods as best he can and grunts behind the ball gag. His saliva dribbles down his chin to his chest slicking the harness: which is all he wears.

“Mr. Reese?”

John’s head whips around to see Harold in the satin burgundy robe Reese bought for their first month’s anniversary. “John, I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Tenderness washes over John’s face replacing the sneer. He walks over to run a soothing caress pass stiff shoulders and neck. “He needs to learn to take orders now. He can’t ever think he’s in charge.”

Harold bows his head. “This is humiliating. Our time together, I’m not sure I want him watching us: even at the foot of the bed.”

John kisses the troubled brow. “He needs to be as loyal and invested in your safety as Bear.”

Harold’s head lifts. “Bear is a dog. I love him but he is a pet!”

They both look over at the naked, bound and anxious man on his knees.

John nods. “Now, so is Mark.”

 


	2. Omega

Mark knows what John is trying to do. The gag, harness, verbal humiliation and daily beatings are all designed to break Snow’s spirit. Reese is wasting his time. Mark had the same training as Reese and will never break.

Watching John make love tenderly and reverently to Harold, nearly every night is more embarrassing for Finch than Snow.

The only aspect of Mark’s captivity that gives him pause is Harold; more specifically Harold’s kindness. The cripple talks to Mark off and on all day on the speaker near Mark’s pallet on the floor. The microphone is powerful and Mark can converse easily with the well-educated Finch, as he is not gagged when Reese and Harold are gone in case of choking and to stay hydrated.

Once or twice Harold has interrupted a beating from Reese with outrage on Mark’s behave. Finch has actually defended Mark so often that Reese no longer lays a hand on Snow unless Mark has broken a rule.

Although Finch swore to Reese that he would never unshackle Mark, Harold has done his best to make Snow comfortable, going so far as to plead with Reese to allow Mark to use the toilet rather than the bucket. That didn’t work but Harold did succeed in getting Mark some clothes. Silk pajamas that have a thread so fine they had to be worth over $200.

Tonight is apparently an anniversary. Candles and roses are scattered around the loft. Reese has been humming to himself since he got home an hour ago. The smell of roasted rosemary chicken fills the apartment and makes Snow’s mouth water. The MRE’s Reese hands him can hardly be called food.

A knock on the door is followed by a bark. Harold and Bear must be here. Snow is wary of the dog but is glad to see Harold.

The older man is limping worse than usual. Finch looks tired and worn. Mark stands and pulls his tether as far into the room as he can to get a better look at Finch.

Reese greets Harold with a kiss, guiding dog and man pass Mark without even looking at Snow. Reese gets them both settled on the couch.

Mark knows he isn’t supposed to speak unless asked a question but Finch doesn’t look right. From their love making sessions,(Mark can’t call the slow, affectionate act anything but love), Snow has discerned the extent of Harold’s injuries. Bad leg, bad back, neck bolted together. Whatever work Harold and John do all day can’t be good for the old wounds. Not to mention Harold’s age and the shear effort of walking upright. But how to get the information on Harold without John seeing it as an act of defiance? The need to check on Harold wars with Mark’s desire to stay free from pain.

Carefully, Snow approaches as close to the pair as he can on his knees. Mark keeps his eyes down cast and his posture submissive. Hesitantly he asks, “Master?”

Reese grunts, “What?”

Mark takes this as a good sign. “Can I be of service? Perhaps I can rub Harold’s shoulders while you finish supper?”

John is of course trying to ferret out any plotting or self-serving motives in this request. Boldly, Snow says, “You have a gun and I can’t get out of the tether. I won’t hurt him. I just want to be useful.” Mark grinds his teeth. “Please Master.”


	3. Beta

Reese unhooks Mark’s tether from the ring in the main room’s ceiling while his gun is trained on his former boss. Carefully, with Finch far out of the way in the kitchen, Reese hooks the tether to a different ring in the ceiling over the bed. John has rings set up every few feet along the high surface. They look like part of the industrial décor until you watch Reese with the long pole that fastens and unfastens military grade hooks used for scaling.

It is obvious to Snow that Reese has these for any interrogations that might involve hanging a man by different body parts. Each ring and hook set-up can withstand any attempt to pull free. The tether is made of a smooth lightweight polymer that will not fray. The only way to cut yourself free is with a blow torch set to an extremely high temperature. Breaking into a vault might be quicker than breaking out of the loft.

Snow does not intend to break out however.  Mark intends to ingratiate himself into Harold’s life. Harold is kind and sweet. From what he has heard, Harold is immensely wealthy but chooses to use that wealth to save lives. Apparently, Reese was suicidal and living on the streets. Explains why they couldn’t find him for so long. One day Harold came and offered John a chance to be the White Knight that Stanton always said Reese strove to be. Silly, fairy tale stuff but Harold and John were now living it.

Mark isn’t stupid. He knows what Reese was really doing as the Man in the Suit. He knows Reese, knows his Boy Scout longings. Christ, why doesn’t John just wear some fake glasses and pose as a reporter? That way the Clark Kent personae would be complete.

No. Reese doesn’t surprise or interest Mark. But Harold? Harold is an enigma, a real puzzle. Reese just wanted to atone but Harold; Harold never hurt a fly as far as Mark could see. Yet, this gentle man spends hours working to save people who would never even know he existed. With his age and injuries, that was laudable yes. However, the affection and love Harold held for Reese should have manifested a deep hatred for Mark. It hadn’t. Harold treated Mark like a friend, almost a younger brother. Snow had known people who he personally took a bullet for that never treated him with half the respect that Harold did.

Mark isn’t stupid enough to think he can get Harold to set him free. Harold is genius level crafty: paranoid and inventive. Mark knows that should he escape, Harold would be the one to find him and make sure Mark never endangered anyone ever again. Mark is trained to withstand anything Reese could throw at him. The things Harold was capable of no human could survive. Yes, Harold was power and control that needed no chains, no cuffs, and no hold. Harold could get to you anywhere, anytime. 


	4. Gamma

By the time, Mark is satisfied that every scar is mapped on Harold’s back, Finch is sound asleep. The massage had been hypnotic for Mark as well. Each caress through the white tee provided new information into his enigmatic rescuer. However, the trance of satisfaction and pleasure that Mark is currently enjoying has more to do with the sighs and moans that came from Harold. It was obvious that Harold had enjoyed Mark’s touch. No matter how afraid he may have been at the idea of baring his vulnerable neck to the rabid dog; Harold writhes beautifully under Mark’s hands.

The realization that Harold is asleep brings the room into sharp focus. With it, the reminding smells of rosemary. Harold is asleep, on their **anniversary**. There is no way John is going to wake his lover. All the time, effort and trouble Reese went to is now wasted.

A smug grin broadens over Snow’s face as he dismounts the prone man. Mark’s schadenfreude makes him forget to hide the tenting in his pants. Reese is never one to miss the obvious.

“Oh Mark.” John’s laugh is haughty. “I can certainly understand finding Harold attractive.”

Snow’s blush is almost comical. “I’m not gay! It’s just all the rubbing to get to his back.”

“As you like to say Mark- I’ve had the same training.” Reese slithers across the room. “That included seduction." John circles behind Mark. "Of both genders." John pulls at the harness making Mark bend back. "So, don’t hand me that gay or straight crap.”

John cuffs Mark’s hands behind his back effortlessly. “You know as well as I do that a willing mouth is a willing mouth." Reese gathers the pole. "A warm hole is just that regardless of the one who it’s attached to.” Reese connects the tether over Mark's palette and grabs the harness, dragging Mark with little care.  “So, I know you’ve had at least some contact with the pleasure found in a man’s body.”

Reese presses Mark’s shoulders down until Snow kneels in front of him on the blankets. “Don’t forget, I was born with this face, Mark." Reese stands with his feet shoulder width apart giving Mark a derisive stare.   "I have known men like you since I was 14.” Reese looms over the prostrate man. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never let myself be alone with you?”

“I would never…”

“No.” Reese circles around to Mark’s back. “But I didn’t want to take the chance that your unfailing loyalty.” He drags his fingertips along the silk covered shoulders. Mark flinches away. “Or unquestioning compliance to orders ever dimmed.”  John kneels behind Mark and leans forward to whisper. “Or allowed yourself to be human for once.”

Reese smoothes a hand down Mark’s chest. Mark balks and tries to lean away but the harness and cuffs work to John’s advantage as they were meant too. With his breath ghosting at Mark’s cheek, Reese pulls down the pants to expose Mark’s hard organ. “Don’t cry out Mark." Reese hisses into Snow's ear.   "You’ll wake Finch. He might not like the fact that this,” John grabs Mark’s shaft in a painful fist, “Is from your own perverted ideas while trying to ease Harold’s own innocent ache.”

Reese pumps the now eager flesh slowly. “I do understand, Mark. He is an interesting mystery; smart, clever, polite, proper, and that  **ass**.” John’s thumb flicks the head. “Never has a man over fifty had an ass that round, that plump, that enticing.” Mark pants as John cups his balls. “His mouth, so small, those thin expressive lips, just the idea of watching them stretch wide around your dick is enough to make a good man snap” John’s hands quicken.  “You’ve never been a good man Mark.” The speed and pleasure is dizzying. Mark’s arousal is fever pitched.

The horizon of orgasm is just out of reach when Reese abruptly pulls away and stands with a sneer causing Snow to tumble forward, unable to break his fall.

Reese viciously asks, “What makes you think an honorable and kind man like Harold would ever touch a snake like you?”

John walks away to disappear into the kitchen, leaving Mark desperate, hard, and aching. He manages to turn over. The cool air is no help for his arousal, standing tall and painful.

Reese comes into the room and readies for bed. The lights dim and the loft quiet. Mark strains to get the cuffs off silently, but they are custom made. No locks, a combination latch. Tears of frustration stream from Snow’s eyes as his cock leaks fruitlessly on to his silk shirt.


	5. Phi

The next morning, Harold is contrite. Apologizing to John and using his mouth to make amends. John grants this to a point. Reese rarely lets Harold strain his neck for fellatio, preferring to have Finch on his back and at John’s disposal. However, Harold’s head in John’s lap gives Mark a perfect view of the silk encased plump, ripe bottom usually hidden by suit jackets. Which explains John allowing this for a time.

It is also abnormal for Harold to spend the entire night and John isn’t going to waste having his naked lover in the morning light.  Reese pulls Finch off gently and strips them both. John starts to manhandle Harold into a position to his liking. This is normal. Harold is accustomed to John shifting and moving him where John wants.

Reese decides to stretch Harold out along the foot of the bed on his good side facing Mark. The kisses, love bites, caresses and adoration John shows his lover have Harold in a haze of lust as usual. Most likely Harold has forgotten Mark is even in the room. Finch doesn’t even realize he is on display in full view.

Reese never forgets who is in a room. As he nuzzles his lover’s neck and nips a shoulder, John makes deliberate eyes contact with Mark. John swiftly opens his lover with impatient yet thorough fingers. He supports Harold’s head with his arm, which crosses under Harold’s neck and over the lower shoulder, passing between hard nipples set among a forest of hair. John’s hand splays out against Harold’s sternum, holding Harold firmly against him.

Once Reese is satisfied that Harold is stretched he lifts the bad leg with the forearm and guides the head of his erection inside Harold. Once John is in deep, he rests the leg above his elbow. This opens Harold further and frees John’s hand for Harold’s own red, engorged shaft.

Mark has seen them make love many times but John or a sheet is always partially covering Finch. This is the first time Mark has seen all of Harold from the front. John’s hand glides up the impressive length. Harold is massive: nine inches at least. Harold’s girth is above average as well: larger than either Snow or Reese. The idea of that hot organ makes Mark’s mouth water and brings the return of his own neglected erection.

Dear God, Harold could do porn with that tool.  Yet, with everything Mark has seen, Harold loves John inside him. From the rapture on his face right now, clutching John’s arm and the mattress’s edge to the other times Mark has seen them together, Harold’s prostate must be incredibly sensitive.

A few times, it has been obvious from Harold’s hands on John’s shoulders and Reese’s arm stretched out on the mattress for support that Harold can sometimes come from penetration alone.

The tempo of John’s thrusts picks up as well as his strokes to Harold’s purpling groin. Mark’s mouth is full of want and saliva. His chest is tight with longing. His cock is stiff and drooling again.

This isn’t fair! John doesn’t deserve him! Reese is no innocent. Whatever evils are on Mark, John is just as culpable. Why Reese?

Harold’s moans do nothing to bank the fire in Mark. Harold’s hips start to rock to try to capture more of John’s shaft. Reese soothes with words, nips, licks and kisses. John increases his rhythm. Soon the slap of John’s sack against Harold’s ass is heard making both Mark and Harold whimper.

Each smack gets louder as Harold starts to pant and his grip on the mattress grows white knuckled. John’s hand is a blur as he brings Harold over, white gushes over to splash in the fur on Harold’s belly and over John’s hand.  The sound of Harold coming brings a sharp pain to Mark’s balls, doubling him over, making his eyes close in despair and suffering. Mark barely hears John’s own grunts of completion.


	6. Psi

After their lovemaking, Harold rises on shaky legs to shower. Reese looks after him. Once John is satisfied that Finch is busy under the spray of water he turns to Mark. Mark is still hard, his pants still caught under his erection, clearly spotlighting his need. The cuffs are still securing his hands behind his back. The longing and want are still evident in the lines of his face and bend of his spine.

Reese snorts and moves in front of Mark. “You have it bad Mark. As I’ve said, I entirely understand.” John stretches his hands to the ceiling popping his back and groaning in the afterglow. “Unlike you though, I have him and I will never let him go. You will never have him.” Reese looks Mark dead in the eye. “You know that don’t you.  No matter how nice he is to you. No matter how many times he stops me from putting a bullet between your eyes, you will never be more to him then another lost soul who needs him.”

John clutches Mark’s chin and lifts his head to look at Reese. “You want a taste?”

Mark is confused and tries to look at the bathroom door. John laughs. “Oh, no. You are never touching him.” John brings his groin close to Mark’s nose. “Taste him on me.”

Mark closes his eyes in despair. Reese is offering Mark a morsel to fill his mouth and fertilize the desire raging inside him. John pushes Mark’s nose into the sticky aftermath of their coupling. Mark hates himself for inhaling deep the aroma of Harold and John and lube.  

John swivels his hips, smearing the lube and scent all over Mark’s mouth. “Lick him off me.”

Mark squeezes his eyes tightly shut and starts to lap at John’s cock. Soon the taste is too much. This is Harold. This is what Harold would taste like if he let Mark rim him. Oh God, does Mark want every drop. His licks turn to sucks. Soon the head of John’s dick is between Mark’s lips. Mark sucks hard.

Reese slaps him across the side of his head. “I don’t need a blow job Mark, especially not from the likes of you.”  John shakes him roughly. “Lick.”

Mark meekly and gratefully licks all the evidence off Reese. Any tiny speck of Harold is treasured and absorbed. Finally satisfied, Reese pushes Mark away. “Taste good doesn’t he?”

John doesn’t wait for an answer but uncuffs Mark. “Jerk yourself off, slowly. Don’t come or stop unless I tell you that you can.”

Mark starts to stroke himself with the taste of Harold in his mouth. Reese brings a hand to Mark’s mouth. The hand is covered in semen. “Want some more Harold to help you?” Reese smears it over Mark’s face. Mark whimpers. The smell and taste make it difficult to hold back his orgasm.

Suddenly, Harold opens the bathroom door and steps out in a cloud of steam. Mark’s strokes falter. Reese glares. Mark’s face flames in embarrassment as he wallows back on to the palette. Hoping in vain that Harold won’t see him.

Harold limps over to the bed and sits. Reese brings a small suitcase over and kneels in front of Harold. John opens the case and starts to hand Finch a white tee and dress shirt. John pulls out silky, purple socks and reverently places Harold’s small and perfect foot inside one. The other foot is gnarled and crooked from compensating for the bad leg. Reese covers it in silk and adoration as well.

Mark continues to pull at his cock, desperate to keep himself from coming. Harold is pink and moist from his shower. It is oddly sexy to have a man Mark has recently seen naked and wanton covering all that pale skin in fine wool and fussy tweed. The dressing complete, Harold stands with John’s help and adjusts his tie. He is groomed and gleaming.  His body turns and goes rigid at the sight of Snow pleasuring himself just a few feet away.

Mark swallows the sob of self-disgust that fights to break free. Snow closes his eyes but hears Harold ask, “John?”

Reese’s smug and haughty rasp nearly makes Mark lose his erection. “No decency Harold. Like a monkey at the zoo.”

“Really, Mr. Reese. Everyman deserves some modicum of privacy. Couldn’t you allow Mark to use the facilities?”

“Too many sharp instruments. He’s fine Finch. No more upsetting then having Bear lick his own sack.”

“Mr. Reese…” but John interrupts.

“It’s nearly six. Best be on your way. Mark is fine but Bear needs to visit a fire hydrant.”

Mark hears claws on hard wood floors and the swaying steps of the older man. Finally, he hears the sound of the door closing and locking.

Mark is accustomed to cruelty. He was trained in its ways; trained to withstand its many forms, trained to weld it like a cloak- protecting him and smothering his opponents. They never taught him selfless compassion. How to recognize it, rebuff it, use it, or accept it. They never taught him to shield himself from its warmth. He doesn’t know how to brace himself against the blow of genuine compassion and respect. How to dodge the affection and longing that one who is kind inspires in him.  

Pain, suffering, humiliation would have been easy to withstand from John but this, this siege of kindness, caring and concern from Harold is too much to bear. John has succeeded. He has broken Mark. A task that for decades many have tried and no one before has accomplished. John Reese, the man who Mark had once manipulated like a marionette managed to break Snow into little pieces and rebuild Mark into a loyal, faithful dog.

All Reese had to do was let Mark near courage, integrity and truth. Just force Mark to endure the painful wonder that was Harold Finch. For Mark would do anything, anything to keep close to Harold and bask in his character, his sweetness, his gentleness and steely resolve. Mark will endure any pain, any humiliation, any wound to keep Harold safe and by his side.

Mark knows that Harold will never turn his adoring eyes to look at Mark as he looks at John. The hell of this situation is that Mark doesn’t care. Mark is caught like an insect in the beck of a crow. Just to be allowed near the bird, to watch its clever tricks, to soar over its kingdom is all Mark wants.

Reese owns him now because Reese owns Harold’s heart. Harold’s heart is sweet, kind, and devoted to John. His heart is all that Mark wants and can never have. Harold’s benevolence, thoughtfulness, cunning, intelligence, and humanity will be the carrot that dangles over Mark’s head forever, forever giving John the ultimate power over Snow.

Should Reese ever tell Harold that Mark is a danger to John, Mark will never be allowed near that extraordinary man. At this point, Harold leaving would be crueler than shooting Mark in the head like a rabid dog.

With all the knowledge of his victory ringing in every word, Reese proclaims, “Ok, Mark. You can come now.”

Like the well trained animal that he is now, Mark comes. He comes in long agonizing stripes with images of Harold behind his eyelids, the taste of Harold on his lips, the smell of Harold’s seed in his nostrils.


	7. Sigma

Something has happened. Mark does not know what, but Reese is furious. His anger is a palpable thing, pulsing and pounding through out the apartment like a wrecking ball. 

Reese makes hasty work of changing clothes, making the bed and preparing the apartment for Harold's visit despite the fact that Mark routinely has the loft "Finch ready" at all times. It is late, but their hours are irregular to say the least. 

The knock on the door does nothing to soothe John's mood. Reese flings the door open and nearly snarls at the sight. Mark stands to get a better look, fear for Harold motivating him. 

"Jesus Finch," John grates out as Bear and Harold make there way into the room. 

Harold has a bruise at his temple. Mark's heart constricts, making him forget his place. "What happened? Are you hurt? Let me see your pupils." 

Snow gets Harold settled on the couch and carefully removes the glasses. Without tilting Finch's head unnecessarily, Mark tests the eyes for dilation. 

Harold bats away Mark's hands, "As I explained, I am fine. I did not lose consciousness and the case was completed."

"He touched you." John growls low and with such menace that Mark is unsure if Reese means Snow or the one responsible for the bruise.

Finch waves a hand, dismissing the accusation. "He was frightened, he barely hit me."

A whimper is heard and Mark isn't sure if it comes from Reese or himself. Snow looks from Harold to John. John's chest is heaving, the fists at his side clenching and releasing. What worries Snow most is the caged beast in John's eyes. Reese isn't angry at Finch. He is furious at whoever hit Harold. What is more, John wants to touch, grope and reassure himself that Finch is alright but the anger coupled with the extreme desire makes Reese hesitate. John doesn't want his agitation to transfer to Finch or to aggravate Harold's injuries. 

"Do you want a rub down?" Marks asks, "Or a shower?"

Finch takes in the kneeling, harnessed man with a blink. Snow can almost see the thought that races across Harold's mind. When did I become accustomed to having a human pet and Valet? 

"I ..." Harold starts to answer but looks at Reese. So much time thinking about and catalogueing each of Harold's habits has given Mark near psychic abilities in anticipation of Finch's wants, needs and thought patterns. 

Mark knows Finch is contemplating John's need. Harold is trying to figure out a way to let John fuss and paw at him. John will need to assert some claim. It is very nearly an animalistic instinct to mark Harold with his scent. To remove the scent of the other. 

Mark wonders how much Finch senses about Reese and Snow.  How much does Harold know about the dynamics playing out between them like pack hounds. Mark is obviously the Omega, Bear a Gamma, Finch the Beta and Mate to Reese's redundantly Alpha status. Finch doesn't seem the type to put much stock in the hierarchy. Harold would believe mankind has risen above such base practices.  For the most part Harold is correct. But for men like Reese and Snow, the agency deliberately tapped into those primal urges. 

The irony of course is that all though Snow was John's superior in rank, Mark's own need to service and please his boss was the motivating step to promotion. Snow would turn over and bare his belly for any and every scrape of approval that dribbled unevenly from the higher ups. To gain approval, the Omega learned to command Gammas, Betas and even Alphas like John. This need to please pushed Mark to perform acts that in retrospect now sicken him. The sparse praise from his superiors just made Snow try harder and harder to receive some feedback. 

Killing got no response perhaps torturing would get a pat on the back. The Ordos disaster, though of no fault of Mark's, had his inner Omega scrambling frantically trying to assuage the wrath of his pack leaders. 

In over a decade of faithful and complete service to the CIA, Mark debased himself to the point that he was barely human. In all that time, he was promoted but received only two forms of praise: a pay increase and the threat of a black hood.

Snow swallows nervously. If John sees Mark as a challenge he could do some serious damage both physically and psychologically. So far, Reese hasn't told Finch about Mark's infatuation. Harold has taken Snow's assistance and devotion as a combination of genuine friendship, fear of Reese and a ploy for possible freedom. It has not occurred to Finch that Mark is in love with the brilliant but oblivious man. Should Reese want to hurt Mark, ridiculing Snow and outing him to Finch will wound far more than a beating. 

Should Reese expose Mark's secret, Harold would be kind and sweet and mortified. Insisting that Mark no longer have to touch or massage him. Harold would do this thinking he was making it better, easier for Mark. That Mark would be uncomfortable touching the man he loves but can not have. Instead, Mark would rather deal with broken ribs than lose his nearly daily opportunity to touch and caress the one he worships.

But, no matter how awful Reese has treated him, John never punishes without cause. Harold's views on positive feedback practically make Mark purr. 

Mark makes a decision and starts to take Harold's shoes off. He is careful and practiced. Harold and Reese have permitted Mark to undress Finch to his undershirt and boxers to allow for Harold's back massage. Most nights, Snow completes this task slowly, relishing each furtive touch, savoring each chance to learn Harold's curves.  Tonight is quick, efficient. Mark hopes to get Harold to relax enough to let arousal start. 

However much Finch wants to give John what John needs, Finch is older, hurt, tired and most likely unable to fully engage in sex. It has happened before, Reese is horny but Harold just can't get hard. Whether it is the pain meds, age, his injuries or just not in the mood, John has never pressed the issue. A quiet night of snuggling and reading has always been fine. 

This time, Reese needs to connect. Needs to mount his mate. Reassure himself that all is well and that his claim is intact. John may be too zoned out to police himself.

Even Bear is cowering in his bed, hoping the Alpha is not angry at him. The air is thick with desire, aggression and sex. John's sweatpants are obviously all he wears as the iron rod of his erection tents the front obscenely.

Reese doesn't trust himself to get too close to Finch. Mark's harness does not allow easy access to the bed right now. Mark assists Harold to settle on Mark's own pallet. Snow is dealing with the issues at hand only. Nearly in combat mode, Mark doesn't allow himself to thrill at the idea of Harold in his bed.

Later, when the urgency and danger of an agitated Reese are gone, Mark will let himself indulge in Harold's scent on Mark's own bed linen. Right now, Snow thinks only of Harold. Harold's needs and wants. 

As Mark begins to map the neck and shoulders, a low growl is again heard from Reese. 

Harold starts to turn over, Mark quickly assists. Finch holds out his arms to Reese, "I'm here John, come here."

Reese pounces. His mouth latches onto the that stiff neck, his hips separate thighs, his arms lift Harold's pelvis up to grind against him. The pair have forgotten Mark instantly. On the one hand it is disheartening to be dismissed. On the other, Mark is close enough to the rutting pair that he could touch them if he dared.

John is frantically thrusting, trying to rip through cotton pants and silk boxers with just his cock. Frustration finally pulls Reese away to quickly remove the offending cloth of shirt and shorts. When both men are nude, John is painfully aroused while Harold is still flaccid.  

Finch tries to distract Reese, pulling him down by his shoulders and with sweet words, "I'm here John. I'm safe. I'm here." 

John is torn. His need is painful and demanding but Harold is not aroused. Tears of frustration prick John's eyes as his resists sinking back down onto Harold. John moves a hand to stimulate Harold's cock. The results are promising but even Mark knows that it would take nearly thirty minutes of manual foreplay to get Harold's impressive manhood to full hardness. However, Reese needs release soon. His balls are already close to his body. 

Mark pulls the lube from under his pillow, an expensive and secret present from Finch for Mark's self pleasuring. He hands the tube to Reese. Their eyes lock for a second. Mark nods and speaks softly to Finch. "Harold? I can, I can help. My mouth can get you hard."

Harold flinches, "No. You are not a slave!"

Reese coats his fingers and begins to stretch muscles that are tight with anxiety. If Harold isn't relaxed, this could hurt. Finch would let John do it and never even grunt in pain. Snow and Reese both know Harold will stubbornly insist he is fine. 

Mark now has to choose between Harold's safety and his own secret. Mark gulps in anxiety, "Please Harold. I want it. I want it so much but you belong to John. He'll let me this one time because he's desperate. Please."

Harold looks at Mark's pleading face and surprise replaces suspicion. Mark lets all the love, longing and submission show. Harold closes his eyes and nods. 


	8. Iota

Mark pounces onto Harold's cock like a starving peasant onto a succulent steak. The fit is difficult as Harold is massive. There is barely enough room for the mushroom head inside Mark's mouth without teeth hurting tender and sensitive flesh. Harold is not even fully erect. Mark hums as he sucks and salivates. The shaft fills and becomes slick with Mark's spit.

The taste is everything Mark had dreamed and more. The weight and reality of this moment is something no imagination could foresee. Mark is in a haze of bliss, arousal and ecstasy just from the feel of Harold in his mouth. Mark would have climaxed at the first taste except for his overriding thoughts of Harold's pleasure. The importance of Harold's needs supersedes even Mark's desperation to come.

John is starting to enter Harold's tight opening. Reese is being careful but Harold has only started to be aroused. Mark slicks his right hand and starts to massage around Harold's perineum. As John penetrates deeper, Mark circles around where they are joined. His middle finger massages all the way around the left side of John's cock, back up to smooth behind Harold's balls then back down the right side, easing the muscles in their stretch to accommodate John's girth. Mark's efforts are rewarded with a moaned curse from Finch and a spurt of precome. The flavor bursts on Mark's tongue like overly sour candy making his jaw muscles twinge. John is able to ease in another inch.

Mark continues to suck with his mouth, bob his head, jerk the shaft with his left hand and massage Harold’s opening with his right. There is no way to brace himself so Mark's lower back takes most of the strain. Even should he be in traction a month from this, Mark would not trade this moment for the world. He would close his eyes to savor the feel but Mark is careful to watch Reese for any signs that John is meeting resistance.

Snow looks up at John and notices Reese staring down. Mark cradles Harold's balls and lifts them gently. The results are two fold. Harold moans an expletive, releasing more fluid and John growls at the sight of his own cock surging inside his lover.

Reese picks up the pace and thrusts deep into Harold's core. Finch pants and moans at the stimulation. Harold's hands want to touch John but can't reach at this angle. Instead, Finch gently ruffles the hair at the back of Mark's head in thanks and grasps his own knees, pulling them back. This allows Reese to penetrate deeper and Harold cries out John's name.

Although Mark will relish the feel and affection of Finch touching his head, the cries from Harold's lips are all about Reese. Snow will not allow this hurt to ruin the pleasure of this moment. The bittersweet sting of reality will ground Mark into the present. It will remind Mark that this privilege is one he has never earned. Frankly, Mark could never earn the honor of sucking Finch off.

Harold's devotion to Reese reminds Mark that this moment is being allowed by John and Harold because they are in a state of emergency. Mark must keep Reese from hurting Harold. So, Mark moves his right hand to Harold's shaft, jerking rhythmically and squeezing hard as he sucks the crown with hollowed cheeks. His left hand braces himself across Harold's body to allow Mark to bob his head in a frenzy of lust and determination. Harold needs to come before John so that Mark can have Harold shoot inside Mark's mouth.

The movements of hand and mouth lull Mark into a trance. He has forgotten to watch John. Reese smacks the side of Mark's face, dislodging Snow from Harold's lap and throwing Mark to the floor. John's hand replaces Mark's mouth and brings Finch off in a beautiful fountain that gushes over the long elegant knuckles of John's fist. Snow misses all but the last gasps of Harold's orgasmic expression.

Reese's begins to smack his hips against the lush cushion of Harold's ass faster and faster until John roars his own completion. Harold jerks his body a few times at the feel of John's ejaculate on his abraded walls. Reese pulls out and lays near Harold's left side, cuddling close. In between kisses and snuggles John meets Mark's eyes. He beckons Snow over. Mark's face is snatched in a grip and John inserts a sticky finger in Mark's mouth. “Suck it.” John whispers too low for Harold to hear. Mark sucks the fluid and recognizes Harold's come.

Finch makes a snuffling noise and appears to be asleep. John whispers, “You can come now Mark.” and Snow jerks himself off quickly and viciously with the heavenly taste of Harold in his mouth and the weight of John's fingers on his tongue as a reminder that any drop of Harold Mark may receive is only with John's permission.


	9. Omicron

Mark woke first. He kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep. He first tried to take a reading of the room. There was no scent, nor sound, nor feeling like someone broke in, no indications that there was a  danger to Harold. Mark took in a deep breath and caught the most enticing scent. His Alpha and the cherished mate of the Alpha, Bear at Mark’s feet, and Mark’s own pheromones mingled in the fabric of Mark’s pallet with the smell of sex. It was glorious. It brought tears to Mark’s eyes.

He had a pack, even if just for this moment. Mark had a pack who he belonged to and who cared for him. His Alpha would give him structure and leadership, his Beta would provide affection, family, and positive feedback. Bear seemed to have adopted Mark as pack as well. Recent weeks with Harold’s scent on Mark from the massages and such have allowed Bear to become accustomed to Mark.This feeling of wholeness, of completeness was even greater when Mark remembered the rooftop and his initial training.

Mark will never be able to pinpoint the exact moment when he decided to finally follow John instead of trying to reign Reese in for their masters. Mark was thinking about running to a safe house and John said something. For a moment Snow wanted to run, to fight and claw his way to life. He looked at John. Reese wasn’t scared. Reese was at peace. John knew what to do and was confident that his actions were right. Mark had not felt like that since he joined the agency. That feeling of right, of good.

Mark decided to follow John. They made their way up to the roof. Each step lightened Mark’s heart. A sense of peace and well being drifted through his consciousness. He wasn’t terrified anymore. John knew the way. It was such a relief that his own imminent death was nothing but a minor concern. They reached the roof and they heard a voice. John turned and was immediately upset. Snow stayed silent, allowing John to handle this scene. Snow would take his cues from Reese. John was in the lead.

Reese was projecting 'protect and save' vibes. Whoever this limping, geeky, well dressed man was his life was extremely important to John. Reese raised his weapon half heartedly and the man challenged. Reese lowered the weapon and allowed the man to open his shirt. Reese’s entire being was resigned, his face…

Mark immediately understood. This was John’s lover, partner. Reese of course, had a partner just as brave and determined as he was. Their love was a palpable and living thing surrounding them. Mark could actually see their bond. The sight tightened his throat and made his chest ache. This rare thing was only legend and story to Mark. An actual Alpha bonded and mated to his lover. This had to be preserved.

Snow heard the mate say something about only three chances but five codes. Mark did not even pause. He stepped up, startling the man a little. Snow explained.

“Practise on me. If you lock mine out then you have only two numbers left but three tries for John’s vest.”

The lover went pale but Reese nodded at Mark with approval in his eyes. The mate was going to protest but John said, “Harold, it's the only way for one of us to live.”

The man called Harold stood up straight with a confidence that no Beta ever showed to his Alpha  and proclaimed, “Sacrificial offerings are on Tuesday, Mr. Reese. To ensure that _**both**_ parties survive, I can alternate. One number for you, then for Mr. Snow, then so on. If I have to use all five to get to the right number it will be last code possible to be entered in the first phone I attempt.”

John laughed. “Knew you were smart.”

Harold started working and within three attempts he had the code. Both phones were disabled. Mark was only partially relieved. Now that Snow was no longer attached to an exploding bomb he was still a  danger to others. It was time to discuss how to dispose of Mark. Snow swallowed. He didn’t protest. John knew what do. Mark would allow Reese to control his fate.

Reese raised his gun and Harold yelled. They argued a little. Mark didn’t listen. He just got on his knees so he wouldn’t have too far to fall. It was better this way. No more running, no more scrambling, no more decisions, no more calculation just order, peace and quiet. There was a sharp pain and Mark’s consciousness went dark.


	10. Tau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humiliation, mental torture, light BDSM and such are ahead.

 

He awoke on the floor of a storage closet. One of the small, five foot square allotments that people get for their extra stuff in the basement of their apartment building. Later, Mark would learn this building had been condemned. This room was padded with thick, sound suppressing material. He was naked except for a polymer harness.

He had seen the specs for the material a year ago. It was essentially as strong as steel and heat resistant. The material could not be attached or sewn like normal fabric. The ends would fold back to be woven into itself to create a loop to run through with belts or clip hooks.

This particular harness setup had a collar that was secured with a thumbprint buckle. It ran through two loops attached to straps that flowed down the length of Mark’s back to be attached to a belt of the same material at Mark’s waist that had a combination lock. A single piece connected the back straps to each other with D rings right under his shoulder blades. Snow assumed that these were for hoisting his body up.

From the belt, down the backs of each thigh a strap was attached to thigh collars that were one continuous circle. The whole thing would allow Mark to be suspended from any limb including his neck. If he were able to get the belt off, the collar and thigh holds would prevent Snow from slipping out. If the collar was taken off, the same would happen with the belt and thigh closures. All in all it was an ingenious and simple design. Mark’s admiration was tinged with apprehension at the possible uses of this contraption by one John Reese.

Speak of the Devil. Mark hears the door open. An armed Reese comes in with gun pointed at Snow.”Stand up.”

Mark tries and discovers he is tethered to the back wall. It means he can lay down on the blanket provided as long as his back is close to that wall. He stands a mere two feet away from Reese but with no way to attack or escape.

John hands him a plastic cup of water and a plate of diced meat, vegetables and noodles. Snow is not given a utensil. He is expected to use his hands. Reese watches every move Mark makes but Snow is resigned. He will not attempt to leave. This is what he has always deserved. A fate worse than death.

Time passes unnoticed. Mark has no idea what day it is or what hour. His time is filled with waiting for another visit and disciplinary session from Reese.

Showers are a bucket of soapy water and a rag followed by a different bucket and rag of clean water to rinse. Reese hands him a towel once all the other paraphernalia is returned. Mark has a bucket to urinate in and has been warned that if he spills it he will be catheterized. The most humiliating experience is the ememas. They are necessary to keep the cell clean and to humble Mark.

John cuffs Mark’s hands behind him with combination cuffs. Mark is made to turn and spread his legs. Reese lubes up a tube and inserts it into Mark’s rectum. Mildly warm water rushes in and Mark is ordered to hold it. The time is always different. If Mark holds it like a good boy, he gets to empty his bowels in a bucket. Reese gives him a damp rag to wipe.

Once, Snow couldn’t hold it and soiled himself. He was made to sleep in his own filth for what seemed like days. Finally, Reese came back with soap and a hose. Mark cleaned the cell and received a merciless beating.

Snow is not sure if John comes every day or every other day or if it varies. A few times Mark has needed to make a bowel movement so bad he again soiled himself. This made Snow assume that Reese changed up the hours between visits to confuse Mark about the length of his captivity. That beating was not as severe as the one for disobeying the order to hold his enema water.

What never changes about the beatings is that they are not so severe that Mark is incapacitated. Honestly, many weekend BDSM couples would consider the beatings all in good fun. Mark has experience with that scene and he did enjoy himself to the pont that many of John's beatings leave Mark hard and wanting. However, these are accompanied by a lecture.

Reese swings the whip and it crackles against Mark’s back.”The only reason you are still alive is by the good graces of Harold Finch.”

Sometimes, Mark is gagged and blindfolded, bound and slumped over a carpeted saw horse. Reese uses hobbling bars to keep Mark’s legs spread and the hands are cuffed to the wall, stretching just beyond comfortable. Reese uses clamps on the tender skin of Mark’s ass and nipples. He is then whipped, taunted, and lectured

Once, Reese lubed Mark up and inserted a buttplug. Snow actually hoped John would fuck him, not only to relieve the ache in Snow’s balls, but to prove Reese was as disgusting and vile as Snow now knew himself to be. Instead, John simply stroked Snow’s semi-erection to hardness and applied a cock ring. He left Mark there for what felt like hours.

This entire session was narrated by John, “Harold Finch would be appalled to see you like this. He thinks you are a person but we both know you are a slobbering animal. Don’t we Mark?”

or

“Harold is loving and kind. We can’t have a filthy dog like you around him until you are properly trained.”

The worst ones were the times John would describe how Harold saved Reese. How loving and sweet Finch was. How Harold never expected anything in return. How Finch simply felt compelled to help his fellow man even the killer that Mark turned John into.The way Harold courted Reese. How they became lovers and mates. How tender Harold was during sex. How open Finch was to a good, deep fucking. The little sounds Finch would make when Reese bottomed out and slapped his balls against that round, perfect ass of Harold's. The grip on John’s waist by a damaged leg trying to get John in deeper.

It was made abundantly clear that each act of barbarism that Mark endured was to ensure Snow would be worthy of being in Harold’s presence.

Tear you down to build you up.

Harold was prophesied as a gentle, honest man who thought Mark was worth another chance. And so, John was tasked with turning the savage beast into a presentable man.

As the feedings, showers, and beatings became regulated, Mark noticed a pattern. If Mark would take initiative, keep his cell clean, get in position without being asked, Reese was less severe, kinder.  Soon, Mark was hopeful he could meet his benevolent sponsor.

One day, John walked in and pointed the gun, “Sorry Mark.” he said and fired.


	11. Mu

Mark remembers waking up and being surprised he was alive. John must have been using a dart gun. He was gagged, cuffed, and tethered to the ceiling in a spacious loft. The room smelled delicious. Snow listened, but could hear only Reese cooking in what appeared to be the kitchen. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Reese went to let in the well dressed gentleman and a huge, military trained Malinois.

The dog growled and snarled at Snow but Harold had the leash held tight. Finch was beautiful in shades of purple and green. He managed to look masculine and refined yet petite and regale. It was a marvel.

The only thing marring his adorable face was the look of disgust he was sending Reese about Mark. “Mr. Reese? Why is Mr. Snow harnessed like a hog to slaughter?”

John calmly removed Finch’s coat and scarf. He hung them up and locked the front door. That was when Mark noticed the wreath. He looked around and saw a modest Christmas tree with two purple and mauve wrapped gifts underneath. Snow now realized it was probably Christmas Eve. He had been in captivity for around thirty-seven days. It felt like years. Those five weeks had been like boot camp, training Mark to be the soldier/pet/protector of one Harold Finch.

Reese and Finch were squabbling about Mark as they sat at the heavily ladened table. A small fowl was roasted to perfection. Reese was always a gourmet cook. Finch seemed to appreciate the quality of the meal if not their drooling audience.

John effortlessly distracted Finch by feeding him small morsels of succulent meat, savory chutney and perfect pearl like onions. Soon, Finch was sucking the gravy and juices off of Reese’s fingers in a way that made Mark’s cock twitch.

John groaned and removed his hand. He leaned over and kissed his mate obscenely making the smaller man moan low in the back of his thorat. John wiped his hands on a napkin as he deepened the kiss and audibly sucked in air through his nose as if he refused to disconnect from his lover. John grasped Harold’s shoulders and they both stood while still connected at the lips.

They broke apart and Harold gasped. Reese started to suck on Finch’s neck and murmured in Harold’s ear. Finch noded and walked to the bathroom in a daze of lust, his face flushed with arousal, his pants tented. John hurried over to the tree and unwrapped a large rawhide. He threw this to the canine in the basket. The dog was delighted at his Christmas gift and chewed it enthusiastically, ignoring the room as Reese had planned.

John lowered the loft's lights and stripped of all his clothes. He piled them on top of a chair. He was strongly erect, powerfully built and extremely male. Snow tried to avert his eyes but John stormed over and twisted a nipple viciously. “You will take note. You will see the man who saved you. You will appreciate all that he has done for me and for you.”

John grabbed what little hair Mark still had and bent Snow’s head back. “You will see how pathetic you are, how unworthy of life.”

Reese released Snow’s hair with an angry snarl. “Finch saved your life. So now, it belongs to him. Got that Mark?”

Snow noded as best he could and grunted behind the ball gag. His saliva dribbled down his chin to his chest slicking the harness: which was all he wore.

“Mr. Reese?”

John’s head whipped around to see Harold in a satin burgundy robe. “John, I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Tenderness washed over John’s face replacing the sneer. He walked over to run a soothing caress over stiff shoulders and neck. “He needs to learn to take orders now. He can’t ever think he’s in charge.”

Harold bowed his head. “This is humiliating. Our time together, I’m not sure I want him watching us: even at the foot of the bed.”

John kissed the troubled brow. “He needs to be as loyal and invested in your safety as Bear.”

Harold’s head lifted. “Bear is a dog. I love him but he is a pet!”

They both looked over at the naked, bound and anxious man on his knees.

John noded. “Now, so is Mark.”

Reese turned back to his mate and drew him closer. John rubbed his erection against the satin as he held Harold’s face in his hands. He dropped kisses all over Finch’s face. He removed the glasses and placed them in the pocket of the robe. He kissed Finch deeply. So overwhelmed by the assault, Harold did not notice that Reese was opening the robe and sliding it off hairy shoulders, to drape it safely over a chair.

Reese ran his hands all over Harold’s back, soothing aches and igniting passions. All the while he would nip at Finch’s throat or maul Harold’s mouth, never giving the man time to catch his breath. Finally, Reese carefully dipped Finch like a dancer in order to turn them both and settle across the mattress. Harold’s thighs instantly parted to accommodate John’s hips.

Reese’s ass clenched and his hips pushed down as he covered Harold like a blanket. Finch was pressed into the bed, held fast in a loving and passionate embrace.  John rocked them in place providing sweet friction for them both. As Harold started to gasp and pant, Reese pulled his chest away, supporting his torso with his arms. “Harold, I want inside you. May I?”

Finch bite his lips then tried to thrust his own hips up to meet John’s. His frustration was palpable as he could not get enough lift with what must have been a bad hip. “Yes.” It was nearly a sob. “Yes, John please!”

John’s face was that of a demon, a succubus, leering and red yet impossibly beautiful in the low lights of the apartment. The lights of the tree were casting carnival colors across their bodies. Snow had yet to see much of Harold's body but John’s sculpted beauty was spotlit with yellows and reds capturing each feature with just the right emphasis to showcase a well trained warrior’s ultimate weapon: his own body.

Reese smiled and pulled away completely. He helped position Harold at the head of the bed with neck properly supported. Snow knew what Reese was doing: staking his claim over his desirable mate. John was establishing the boundaries. Reese was the Alpha, with Harold as his mate. Snow could protect and support the pack by taking care of Finch. However, Finch would never submit or belong to anyone but Reese. John was marking his territory in the most primal manner.

Within moments John was kneeling over Finch. Harold’s knees were draped over each of John’s elbows. Reese’s left hand disappeared from Mark’s view and moved something. Presumably, John was positioning his cock at Harold’s hole that had been lubed in the restroom earlier. The glutes of Reese’s muscular ass indented as he eased forward. Mark’s own hole clenched.

Harold whimpered and Reese shushed him. John bent his torso forward to bring his hips and chest closer over the prone man. Finch gurgled and cried out his lover’s name.

Mark could see that one of Harold’s feet were calloused from the limp. Those hairy calves would try to hook John’s shoulders to bring Reese closer at regular intervals when Reese started thrusting.

John’s ass would compress and his whole body would bend at his knees to force himself deeper into Finch. Harold would grunt and gasp in turn. Reese would lean back to withdraw and Finch would sigh and whimper. All this time Reese held Harold’s thighs open with the legs dangling over John’s biceps.

John kept their bodies close and connected by firmly grasping Finch’s hips. The older man appeared to be flexible as long as it was Reese who did the actual moving and lifting. Soon the thrusts gained speed. The bed rocked with short and powerful thrusts that would visibly swing John’s balls to collide against Harold’s ass.

John widened his knees, moved his hands beside Harold’s ribs, transferred his weight to his hands, lifting Harold’s feet straight in the air. Then he started a fast and short series of thrusts with just his hips.

John was ready to come. His mate was a gibbering mess of barks and choking sobs. Harold’s toes were curled tight. Finch’s voice filled the room with gulping, hissing, and crowing. Then, short grunts of air from Harold accompanied each of of John's rhythmic, sharp, powerful yet short thrusts

"Touch yourself," John commanded. "Show me."

Finch whimpered, his arms moved out of Mark's sight, presumably to start stroking himself. A long, filthy moan leaked out of Harold's throat like a hot shower on a freezing winter's day. It electrified everyone in the room with sensations that bordered on pain.

It was as if Harold's orgasm was being birth. That John was pushing the climax out of his lover.

Reese sped up. “Come on Harold!” he insisted ‘Come for me.”

A wail startled Mark and drew his balls up. Finch was coming with loud calls to God and Reese. Harold’s legs tried to either lift Finch up or bring John down as they tightened around John’s shoulder blades. Reese never lost his rhythm but as the strangled gasps of Finch become a steady stream of high pitched, sweet moans, John became to pant audibly. At each thrust he would vocalize and gasp. Finally, that pumping ass went still and John growled out his climax.  

Snow's hole had tightened and his cock had lurched, dribbling out sympathetic fluid the fist time he ever saw their mating.

Mark’s reminiscing  have made him hard and flushed now. He soothes his erection carefully. Finch stirs and yawns. Mark removes his hand and prepares for Harold’s reaction.

When he wakes fully, Harold is shy, awkward and doesn't meet Mark's eyes. Snow despairs that Finch will draw away from him. John cuddles Harold close keeping the older man on the pallet.

Finch tries to struggle free. “Mr. Reese? John, I need to get dressed.”

John tightens his hold and burrows his head in Harold's neck to murmur, “Why?”

Finch's looks at Mark briefly then whispers, “Agent Snow can see us.”

John snorts, “Agent Snow had your cock in his mouth last night. I think he has seen it all Harold.” Reese sits up on a elbow to look down at Harold. “Finch don't backtrack on us now. Look.” Reese pulls out a knife from under a pillow. “He has had this here for weeks. You want to know why?”

Harold turns pale but he nods and Reese continues, “Not to kill us or get free but to protect you. Don't you get it? Mark is now just like Bear. Loyal, trained and protective.”

Finch gulps and looks away. “Yes, well Bear is not a human who just participated in a sex act.”

Reese turns Finch's head back towards him gently.“Bear ever sniff your crotch? If Bear saw you as a subservient member of the pack he would try and hump your leg. What happened last night is the same thing.”

Finch's face pinches in disgust. “No it isn't. We are not some pack of wild dogs. We...”

“Not anymore.” John sits up. “Mark needs a pack. He needs me as his Alpha and you as his beloved Beta.” Reese stands up in all his naked glory.

He approaches Mark and starts to rub Snow's head. “He needs structure, discipline and a sense of belonging. He can't get that if you keep trying to act like we are above the pack mentality.” John pulls Harold to his feet. Finch scrambles to cover himself but John pulls the sheets away. “The need for pack is so strong with Mark that he was willing to do anything for the CIA. You saved him on that roof. You disarmed his vest and told me I could not kill him. His life is your responsibility.” Reese walks Finch over to the nightstand and picks up his revolver. “If you are going to be just as negligent as they were you might as well put a bullet in his head." John takes the safety off and forces the gun into Harold's hands, pointing the barrel at Mark's kneeling figure.

Horrified, Finch yells, “John, no!”

Reese replaces the weapon on the stand and faces Harold head on.“I won't watch him wither and die slowly from the lack.”

“What?” Harold is confused.

John bites his lip. “He will start to not eat. Then he won't sleep anymore trying to think of a task that will get his pack to accept him. He will work himself into the ground striving for approval, belonging, and the touch of his pack. Finally, he will be so weak and withdrawn he will stop drinking fluids. You ever watch someone die slowly of dehydration while they work themselves into exhaustion? It's not pretty and I won't do that to anyone, not even Mark.”

“A man can't die of..of...” Finch stutters to a halt.

“Of a broken heart?” John stares directly into Harold's eyes. “Yes they can. Mark needs you to be his Beta just as much as he needs me to be his Alpha. If all he gets is punishment, rules and hoops to jump through from me he will eventually start to withdraw. He will become as cold-hearted and ruthless as he was in the CIA. With no positive feedback and no pack to touch or belong to, Mark will wither and die horribly.”

John's tone softens. “He loves you. Like Bear loves you. It isn't a love of equals. It is a love of the Omega for his Beta. He will protect you with his own life. All he asks is to be accepted as pack.”

Harold stares at Reese in disbelief for a moment then walks slowly over to the foot of the bed and sits. He beckons Mark over. The kneeling man hurries to lay his head on Finch's lap. Harold smooths both hands along Mark's brow, over the spares hair, down to his neck. Snow nearly purrs. His eyes prickle with tears. Finch eventually whispers, “Mark? Is this how you feel? Do you need us to be your, your pack?”

The lump in Snow's throat won't let him speak so he lifts his head and shows Harold the pooled tears. Mark nods. Finch inhales deeply then sighs heavily. Mark is afraid Finch is disgusted by these base needs. Instead of pushing away, Finch guides Mark's head back to his lap and addresses Reese. “The sexually domineering side of this disturbs me greatly but I suppose if this is what he needs.” Finch narrows his eyes at John.  “I suspect this is what you have needed as well isn't Mr. Reese? Not only a mate but also an object on which to release your aggression and leadership skills.”

Mark hears John's response as if from far away. “I could have managed as we were but you're right- I needed a pack too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I consider this piece complete and have no immediate plans for a sequel at this time.  
> I hope this has been a good story for my readers


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